Letting You Know (6 page)

“
Well,
you should know what you're entering
before
you accept the award.”

She
laughed, the metallic sound of disbelief. The smirk that crawled
across my face made her stop. “You're not kidding, are you?”

Taking
the flier, I folded it carefully in my fingers, talking as I worked.
“Not at all. We'll be entering this together.”

“
We?
Both of us?”

“
That's
the definition of together,” I said, feeling strangely smug.
Inside, there was a part of me bustling with joy, imagining our
inevitable performance before we had even decided on our routine.

Bethany
shook her head, but her shock was turning to amusement. “What
will we do, if I may ask? You seem to have this all planned out.”

“Our song. Our win. Our victory speech,” I said, offering
her the flier. I'd folded it into a heart. “I've got it all
planned, yeah.”

In
that moment, I truly thought I did.

She
stared at the paper heart, speaking to it more than to me. “Alright.
So you want us to sing together.” Turning it in her palm, she
set it down gently, those curious eyes looking up at me. “So,
what will
we
be singing?”

“I was thinking we could shake it up, maybe find a song no one
would expect us to sing,” I shrugged. The bell rang for class,
but I didn't react. “How does that sound?”

Bethany
flinched, uncomfortably staring around me as she hissed through her
teeth. “That's fine—whatever you want, Deacon. The
teacher is staring at you.”

“
So
you'll do it, then? For sure?”

“
Yes!”
She was exasperated, turning red. “It's fine, just go! You
aren't even
in
this class.”

Grinning,
I glanced over my shoulder at the frowning professor, still talking
to the blonde girl beside me. “And I can pick the song, right?”

“Yes, yes! Get out. Please?”

“
Then
I'll see you tomorrow, in the music room after school.” Before
she could argue, I turned on a heel, striding smoothly out the door,
ignoring the irritated scowl the teacher shot me.

Though
I was trying to look as calm as possible, my cheeks were beginning to
hurt from my giant smile. The biggest issue I'd had with trying to
get closer to Bethany had been how little personal time I could
salvage.

But
now, she should be able to convince her parents to let her stay late
after school to practice for the talent show. Knowing them, they'll
be all over having their daughter in the spot light.

Everything
was going perfectly, I couldn't foresee a single problem.

In
the true, genuine joy only hopeless teen romantics could lavish in, I
was on top of the world.

My
last class was a study period, so I did the logical thing and slipped
out of school early. Perhaps it was reckless, but truly, I felt
invincible. My only concern was getting home and figuring out what
song Bethany and I could sign together.

Whatever
we do has to be different, we need to stand out. Something no one
would expect from either of us.

My
car wasn't the best, but for a new driver, I was grateful enough to
have anything. Slightly dented green paint, scuffed on the bumpers;
it was reliable, sturdy. The kind of car you needed if you wanted to
drive on the back roads of Kentucky.

I
was planning a route of a different sort.

The
trip to the nearest city, the only place I knew of to find a varied
music store, was a decent length. The cool wind, placid weather, it
merged with my content emotions to make the drive go by quickly.

The
building wasn't huge, but it still would contain plenty of different
things for me to browse over. Among the racks of CD’s, I
thumbed through everything that was as far from the classical hymns
Bethany and I tended to sing together.

What
am I going to choose, what would be perfect for this?

I
didn't know enough about rock music, or rap for that matter, since my
father felt it was often inappropriate. Lifting a case, studying the
woman on the cover who was bent into a seductive pose, I understood
where he was coming from.

Still,
it's not so bad. It's just a little skin.

Unable
to handle the idea of buying something so revealing, even if my gut
said it was fine, I stuck the CD back into place hurriedly.

Frustrated
by my lack of decision, my eyes roamed the racks, spotting an end-cap
displaying newer music.

Sliding
my hands over the hard surface, squinting at the cover, I held the
first CD that met the balance of edgy, but not 'sexy' or similar.

Dark,
smokey, it was an image of a tulip. The stem was melting, turning
into tar. Bits of glass stuck to it; a grim, yet artistic picture.

Hmn,
the Killer Sons, never heard of them.

I
knew that, just because I wasn't familiar with the band, it didn't
mean other people wouldn't be.
In
fact, if this is as new as it seems, it might be exactly what I'm
looking for.

Curious,
and hasty to make a decision and find a solution, I carried the disk
to the front counter.

****

I
spent the rest of my night just listening to music. Stretched out on
my bed, headphones nuzzling my ears; I fell deep into the rough,
grinding sounds. They were strangely alluring.

Is
this the right way to go?
I
wondered if Bethany would hate the concept.

Rolling
on my side, I lifted the CD case, reading the songs listed on it.
Nothing had struck me yet, making me nervous I had wasted my money.
Worse,
my time. What will I bring tomorrow to practice with her?

Something
hit me, slamming into my chest before bouncing to the floor; a
baseball cap from the rack by my door. Blinking, I sat up, realizing
I had company.

“
Hey,”
Nicholas said as soon as I'd slid the headphones down, “sorry,
I was calling for you and you didn't hear me.”

Squinting
at my brother, I scrubbed at the back of my neck, sitting up further
on my bed. “It's fine, but next time maybe just tap my shoulder
or something?”

He
rolled his eyes, leaning on the frame of the doorway, arms folding
tight as a clam. “Whatever. Mom wanted me to come get you for
dinner.” His eyes, sharp as tacks, flicked to the CD in my
hand. “What are you listening to, anyway?”

“
Nothing,”
I said, uncomfortable at the idea of him finding out what I was up
to. “It's just some music. Nothing special.”

“
Is
that the Killer Sons?”

“
Uh,”
I responded, feeling slow, surprised. “It could be. How do you
know about them?”

Nicholas
stepped in closer until he stood beside me. He was lanky, the way
only a fourteen year old could be.

When
he reached for the CD, it took every ounce of will power not to stop
him. “They're pretty popular. I sort of like them, myself.
But,” he smirked, arching an eyebrow at me, “this isn't
something I'd expect
you
to listen to. What's up?”

“
Nothing,”
I said, laughing with some effort. When I fell back onto my pillows,
I could feel the sweat on my neck against the cool fabric. “I'm
not up to anything. It's just music.”

“
Music
that Dad would probably get upset over if he saw you listening to
it.”

“
Well,”
I said, fixing a tight smile at my younger brother's doubtful face,
“he won't see me doing that.”

Nicholas
opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. His odd concern shifted to
indifference as I threw the CD onto the blanket by my shoulder.
“Fine. I'm not going to say anything, obviously. Just come down
for dinner already.”

He
walked away in a rush, anxious to end the situation. I expected him
to leave without another word. Instead, he glanced back at me, hands
deep in his pockets. “You should listen to track number eight.
It's pretty good.”

Stunned,
I moved to sit up, to comment. He exited on fast feet, rendering my
attempt pointless. I could hear him shuffling down the hall on heavy
heels, loud despite his gangly, thin size.

Warily,
I settled back, my fingers gripping the CD player. Pulling it into my
lap, I flicked through the tracks. The ear buds were tucked back into
place, just in time for the start of the song my brother had
suggested.

“
Cool
sorrow,” the words sank into my brain, causing me to close my
eyes. “Fall away, fall away...” It was intense, the hairs
on my neck bristling with the strange energy.

This
is it,
I
realized, imagining the hardcore song being turned into an entirely
new thing when Bethany and myself took it up. We'd twist it, mellow
it out, turn the music into a whole different genre when we sang our
duet.

“
Drumming,
crashing, losing you everywhere!” The male singer screamed in
my ears. Blinking, I twisted the CD over, reading the name of the
track that had yanked me in.

Rain
Flow. This is it, this is our song.

****

Bethany
was waiting for me the next day, perched like a canary on the chair
in the music room. She'd tied her hair back in a tight braid,
forehead smooth and shiny in the lights.

“
Alright,
Mr. Showman, I'm here like you said. So tell me what your grand plan
is.”

Smiling,
I handed her the music sheets I had printed out. “Think you can
play that on the piano?”

She
took the paper, turning it over, thin brows crinkling. “Yeah, I
can handle this. But what is it?”

“
The
song we'll be singing.” I'd stayed up all night, transcribing
the song into something that kept the general tune, but could be
played on the piano. It had been difficult; I was exhausted, but it
was worth every lost wink of sleep. “Here are the lyrics,”
I said, passing her another sheet.

Tilting
her head, she slid off the chair, moving towards the piano in the
corner. “I don't know this song, what is it?”

“
It's
called 'Rain Flow' and it's... well, it's not something you'd
probably listen to, normally.”

That
made her pause, a sharp shape to her blue eyes when she glanced at
me. Saying nothing, she settled at the large instrument, arranging
the sheet music.